


Distorted Wish

by FeatheredMask



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste Needs a Hug, Cat Puns, Chat Noir Being Chat Noir, Gen, Miraculous Side Effects, Running Away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2019-07-01 08:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatheredMask/pseuds/FeatheredMask
Summary: Adrien wishes on a star that he doesn't have to be perfect teen model Agreste anymore. The next day, after a fight with an akuma, he doesn't recognize the boy in the mirror after the Chat Noir mask comes off. Neither does anyone else....but maybe that's not such a bad thing.A new face. A blank slate. No overbearing father. No image to uphold.Just a lot of cat puns.





	1. What a Scoop

**Author's Note:**

> I've watched 3.5 episodes. I swear one of those was in English. ~~What are subtitles~~
> 
> It's not my fault Chat gets called "Neko-chan" in the Japanese.

**Wish**

“I wish I wasn’t Adrien Agreste.”

Adrien stared up at the sky, stars twinkling across the sky. “Adrien is a model, a perfect son. An utter angel. Everyone’s always falling over for my looks and reputation.”

He sighed, looking over to Plagg, the cat kwami curled up on top of the blanket Natalie had brought him when she’d spotted him out on the balcony. Couldn’t have their precious model catching a cold just days before another important photo shoot. This time it would be for a fashion magazine, showcasing a collaboration between the _Gabriel_ brand and another brand name, kicking off with a teen line featuring the _Gabriel_ brand’s star model. His father wasn’t even scheduled to be there for the shoot. 

“I just wish I could be Chat Noir all the time,” he said, smiling wistfully. Plagg’s whole body seemed to lift and fall with each breath, lost in dreamland. “Chat Noir doesn’t have an angel reputation to hold up. Chat Noir is… he’s Chat Noir. He doesn’t have to do anything anybody tells him to do. The demanding black cat knocking the glass off the table. He’s always doing the unexpected.” 

Adrien looked up in time to see something bright streak across the night sky. Probably a satellite passing over Paris. He laughed, and scooped up the blanket and Plagg, heading back inside. December was too cold to sit around all night on the balcony in pajamas. 

“Being Adrien is too much work,” he whispered to no one. “It’s no fun at all.” A sound like a disgruntled _mreow_ came from the bundle of blanket.

When he woke up the next morning, the night before felt like a dream. Natalie gave him his schedule as he ate breakfast before hurrying him out the door to his ride. When an akuma alert interrupted class, he embraced his spot at Ladybug’s side, kicking off the battle with a purr-fect pun. He didn’t have to hold back here. 

\-----

**What A Scoop!**

It was cold out, but that didn’t stop Alya from running out into the frigid Paris winter air. Earlier, she tied her sweater around her waist in the heated classroom, but she had no time to pull it on properly -- there was an akuma on the loose! And where there was an akuma, there was Ladybug and Chat Noir. And where those two were, Alya had to follow.

For the Ladyblog! For the people!

The akuma screeched, her voice making frost shatter on the fringes of car windows. Alya winced. She could have sworn that sounded like the history teacher. 

She swiped at her phone, focused on her goal. Following the screams, racing past the people running in the opposite direction, straight towards the epicenter of the danger. Where her great journalistic scoop was waiting. Latched on to data, the livestream started started almost immediately. 

“I bring you live, from Paris -- an akuma attack!” She had to shout over the screams. A rapidly rising number was in the corner of the screen, a testament to just how many people relied on her for the latest superhero news. Not too far ahead, something made of stone crashed, and crumbled. 

Screams died down as people reached safer ground. The roads cleared to abandoned cars and chunks of stone littering the streets, to somewhere she could actually hear herself. Most had already escaped, either deep inside buildings to safe rooms, or out of the area entirely. 

“And there’s our show’s protagonist, the heroine of Paris: Ladybug!” Alya shifted her phone camera’s attention to the rooftops, a red streak swinging into frame. A blip at first, but Alya had invested in getting only the best for her viewers; the new phone soon refocused on the hero, highlighting black spots and catching the yo-yo strong in actual pixels. 

“I’m getting closer to the scene, viewers. Let’s trust our heroes can handle an extra news journalist on the fringe of the action.”

Alya briefly paused streaming. She wrangled with her sweater as she ran, Ladybug and the action out of view for the moment. She wouldn’t be much help to her viewers if her phone died too early just because she kept the video going through a period of boring. The battery was already low from forgetting to charge her phone overnight. 

She had her sweater on properly as she ran around corners, racing, following the sounds of destruction. Her teacher’s voice reached new pitches, but it was some same lecture of official names of soldiers and politicians that she was well familiar with, following the textbook back at school.

Alya skidded onto the scene, and out came her phone, immediately connecting to the stream and giving her viewers the information they needed to know. Ladybug, facing off a woman in an old military uniform.

“Do you hear the people sing?”

Alya whirled around, her phone whirling with her, the image refocusing on a grinning cat perched on top of an empty car. 

“Singing the song of angry men,” Chat Noir continued with the teasing song lyric, stepping down from his perch. He put a clawed digit over her phone’s camera lens. “It’s not safe here for you,” he warned. “You need to get out of the way and let the superheroes handle this.”

Alya pulled her phone away, the screen reflecting a blurry image of a relaxed, confident Chat Noir who didn’t waver like the screen. “The people deserve to know,” she insisted. 

“The people deserve you safe and sound, so that you can sing for them again another day.”

Alya snorted. “Les Miserable jokes?”

“Yeah, my jokes are pretty miserable today, huh?” Chat Noir grinned, twirling his baton behind his back and over his shoulders. “Now scram, before she gets to the Robespierre chapter of the textbook.”

Alya pursed her lips, pointedly aiming her phone back at the action. Ladybug skipped around several historical statues come to life, avoiding the sharp points of their muskets. She glanced to them, and her voice rang out in annoyance. “Chat! Quit playing around and come help me with this!”

“Aye aye, my Lady!” With only that exchange as warning, Chat suddenly scooped Alya up in his arms. She had no time to protest before he was running with her in his arms, held close to his chest. The video on her phone’s screen bounced. The stream's bitrate had to be crying from this trauma. She put a hand on his chest, trying to struggle out of his grip, but she froze when he jumped. Too high of a jump to be the ability of any normal person. But then again, that was why they were the superheros.

Chat Noir put her down while she was still in a daze from the jump, and cold wind whipped at her hair. He bowed; exaggerated and out of place, sharp canines poking through his grin. “Stay safe.” Then he stepped away, leaning back, and fell off the side of the building. 

Alya ran to the edge, and her phone caught the last moment of his backflip before he landed on all fours on the ground. “Dieu...” She pressed a hand to her heart, scolding herself for being silly. It wasn’t even a very tall building. 

Not short enough that she could jump down just the same as him, though, to her chagrin. She had a good view of the action from there, watching as Chat rejoined the fight. But not good enough. “Just hold on, viewers, I’ll do my best to get closer.”

She hurried to look for a ladder or stairs, or... She found a rough, rusty ladder on the side of the building. Cold as ice from the temperature, but she stuck her phone in her pocket and wrapped her sleeves over her hands.

An alley wasn’t the best place to film from, so she ran out to the street, the sounds of crushing stone never wavering. She grinned, whipping out her phone again. She could still catch more shots of the action. Chat Noir had come up close and personal with her camera, but she still had yet to get good Ladybug shots that day. She ran towards the action, hopping up on benches every now and then to try to get a good shot of the action. But nothing was good enough; she had to get closer. For the people! 

Before she could get close enough, she skidded to a stop. Her breath clouded white in front of her as a black streak went flying through the air. And not of his own accord. Alya could see Chat Noir flailing, a very not-deliberate scream reaching her phone. She watched him smack against the side of a building, and slide down into an alley. 

She wavered, rocking on her heels, but he didn’t reappear. She glanced back to the action, to Ladybug, then dashed. 

“Chat Noir!” Alya still held out her phone in front of her, filming…something. She didn’t know. She supposed she’d find out in a minute. 

She turned in to the alley. Her phone’s camera landed on the collapsed form of Chat Noir on the ground, his baton rolling into a puddle. Something beeped, flashing on Chat’s hand. Her phone beeped, briefly displaying a low battery icon before going dark.


	2. Cat Got Your Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: Chat panics, Alya's POV, identity reveal *gasp*
> 
> So many names starting with "A" is confusing, so let's just call him "Chat" forever.

**Wish**

Alya glanced down at her phone, staring at it for a long moment as if it would come back alive if she just paid it enough attention. 

“No, no, not now! The fight’s not over yet…” Alya looked to Chat Noir, and made her decision. She stuffed the phone in her jeans pocket before kneeling down beside him. Chat Noir? C’mon, you have to go help Ladybug!”

No response. Chat’s head lolled to the side, and she did her best to haul him up to prop him up against the wall, ignoring any far-off advice in the back of her head about how it was probably bad to move someone with a concussion. This was a superhero; he couldn’t just lie around! Not when there was an akuma on the loose. If he could take all those stunts with a smile, he could handle a bit of jostling. 

She batted around his limp arms in her battle to keep him upright, but stopped when a glint of glowing green caught her eye. Alya picked up his hand, and raised an eyebrow at the black ring there. A green smudge blinked back at her. Without thinking much of it, the ring slid off without much tugging. 

The black leeched from Chat Noir, his suit absorbing into the ring, revealing skin and civilian clothing. The black faded from the tiny thing as well, turning white. Something small and black slipped out with the last of the black. Before she could catch it, it zipped into Chat’s pocket. 

She slipped the ring back on his finger, but the damage was already done; Chat Noir was unmasked. 

Her phone was dead. And he was passed out in an alley, probably with a concussion. In Parisian winter. What terrible luck. At least there was no snow. 

_“Miraculous Ladybug!”_

A wave of calm crashed over Alya. Creation, sweeping through the city, putting right what went wrong. An imaginary wind ruffled Chat’s hair. A few stray chunks of rock shuddered before flying out of the alley, likely to return to the statues they used to make up. But no mask returned to cover up the soft face before her, and no black suit came to hide away his precious identity. Creation couldn’t reverse this destruction. 

Alya furrowed her brow at the boy who ran around Paris and fought for their safety under the guise of Chat Noir. Looked like she had another mystery on her hands; he looked to be around her age, but she didn’t recognize him at all. 

She could definitely see the resemblance to Chat Noir now, even without the mask. Thick blond hair framed his face, and something feral and sharp twitched at his lips. Muscles rippled under his shirt, his jacket open and askew; all those flips and jumping around the city certainly did wonders for the physique. She imagined she might find his face if she went searching the rosters of all the school sports teams in Paris. 

His eyes blinked open. Hazy, deep green eyes. They reminded her of Marinette’s obsession with Adrien’s eyes, her friend drooling over eyes the color of “golden sunlight shining through her hanging garden in the green of spring” or something. But a darker, more piercing emerald. The green that filled Chat Noir’s mask. 

Actually, not much like Adrien’s eyes at all, now that she thought about it. She wasn’t sure why Adrien had come to mind. The consequence of too much time spent listening to Marinette’s puppy love, she decided. 

Chat groaned, reaching for his head, and gloveless hands buried in his fluffy hair. Then those green eyes snapped open. They immediately locked on her face. “Al…ya?”

She nodded slowly, wondering if Chat really had suffered a concussion. “Yes, that’s my name. Slow down, I think you hit your head. Ladybug beat the akuma and fixed everything already.”

“You…” He was still staring at her. “You saw me transform. …I’m not wearing the suit anymore.” 

Alya sighed. “Yes,” she said. “But my phone’s dead, so I can’t-”

He lurched, grabbing her arm. “You can’t tell anyone I’m Chat,” he insisted. “If my father-”

“Hey, hey,” Alya cut him off, grabbing onto his arms instead to steady him from whatever mental break he was on the brink of having. “I told you to slow down. I’m not going to tell your father. Heck, I don’t even know your name! We’re going to go to the nearby café, and you’re going to answer some questions while my phone charges.”

Chat froze with his mouth hanging open. Those canines looked sharp. It was a wonder no one had connected the cat motif to this kid before. 

She raised an eyebrow. Alya sighed, and waved a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Chat Noir?”

Chat’s jaw shut. “…you don’t recognize me?”

Alya shook her head, and peered at him closely. “No. Why? Have we met before? I think I would’ve cornered you immediately if I ever saw you; you’re really not that different outside of the suit.”

“I-” There it was, that jaw hanging open again. Alya was really questioning that concussion now. 

He stumbled as she yanked him to his feet. “Café. Now.” He didn’t pull away. On the contrary, he returned the grip on his hand, his claw-like nails pricking her skin. She forgave him because the poor guy looked dazed. He snatched a metal rod off the ground as they exited the alley -- his baton, she realized. 

“What’s your name? I won’t put it on the Ladyblog,” she quickly added, inwardly cursing her reluctance. But she couldn’t reveal him just like that, just because of a moment of weakness, no matter the temptation. Besides, he seemed pretty shaken. No need to scare the guy. 

Chat didn’t reply immediately, looking like he was still trying to collect himself. While she gave him some leeway, she needed answers. 

“Name?” she prompted.

He jumped. “My name-” He looked away, and Alya followed his gaze to where it dragged along the shop windows they passed, over signs advertising Christmas decorations, chocolate calendars, poster of Adrien Agreste showing off seasonal clothing… “Ad- Allard,” he replied, biting the name on his tongue. “I’m Allard. Allard Advent.” 

That advertisement for advent calendars had been too convenient for that surname, but Alya couldn’t blame him for being cautious. The first name was questionable as well, but calling him Chat Noir aloud in a public street like this would cause trouble. 

“Allard,” she repeated. They entered a small café, empty from the hurried fleeing after the appearance of the akuma in the area. The staff had remained, and settled back into work as the shop returned to the daily grind. They had buckled down in the back room, waiting until Ladybug’s restoring power passed through, ever faithful that she would keep them safe. 

Alya began her questioning once they sat down at a table with mugs to warm their hands. She borrowed a charger from the staff, and plugged in her phone to an outlet in the wall. As soon as the screen lit up, she got right to it. What her readers really wanted. The questions that kept them up at night--

“Why do we rarely see you two outside of akuma attacks?”

“Are you dating Ladybug?”

“Are you dating outside of your superhero identities?”

Quiet questions under the sounds of grinding beans and sips of hot chocolate, going down the typical list she’d gathered from the Ladyblog’s comment section. Answered with the standard Chat Noir charm, deflected with puns and much too playful teasing that revealed that while he would have liked to have Ladybug like putty in his paws, that was far from real life. 

“What do your parents think of you being a superhero?”

Chat hesitated, destroying the flow of the interview. 

Alya raised an eyebrow. Not even a deflection or dramatic lie? Here was something. “They don’t approve?”

“My- They don’t know. If they knew, they wouldn’t let me leave the house until I was forty.”

“Don’t you think they’d be proud of you? All you do for Paris?”

Chat shook his head. “It’s not about Paris. It’s about jumping straight into danger wearing a skintight black suit and acting ridiculous.” He pointedly narrowed his eyes at her. “Like we’re always worried about random civilians getting caught in the line of fire.”

Alya’s phone screen went dark. She had stopped typing and let it fall asleep. It didn’t feel right to jot down notes on something that felt so personal like this. Chat ‘s eyes flicked to the screen, taking notice. 

“So…” She wanted nothing more than to stay professional, for the sake of the Ladyblog, but her voice softened. “Does Ladybug feel the same way about her own parents?”

“I don’t think so. She has a pretty positive view of parents, from what she’s mentioned.”

Her fingers hovered over the dark screen. Something was amiss. This conversation was leading strangely personal, and she found herself feeling like the times when Marinette came to her to spill out her troubles and feelings. Before she could press for more answers, he excused himself to the bathroom, the table rattling as he pushed his chair away. 

Alya frowned down at her phone on the table. She opened up the Ladyblog, praying her phone wouldn’t crash on her with such a low battery. Her fans had been left on a cliffhanger after the livestream had so suddenly ended. Comments pinged to the front, worried for both her and Chat Noir. 

She composed a quick post, assuring fans that her phone battery died and nobody had been injured, the latter thanks to Ladybug. But an exclusive Q&A with Chat Noir was on its way.

That would appease her audience for the time being. Alya felt satisfaction as she posted the blurb, and looked up to see Allard returning to the table, his baton held tight in his hand. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You look kind of pale.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, then said, “I can’t go home.” He hesitated as if he wanted to say more, but stopped himself. 

“...for a few hours?” Alya tried to understand. “A few days?”

Chat bit his lip. 

“...a week or two?”

Slow nod. 

Alya sighed. “Not getting on well with your folks?” she asked quietly.

“No, no, just… They’re just stressed.”

“Well, sorry, kitty, but I can’t take in any strays right now,” Alya sighed, her heart tugging at the sad kitty eyes he was already pulling on her. “I have sisters. Like, younger sisters. Little balls of chaos. But I have this friend, she’s pretty chill, she won’t mind letting you stay at her place for a day or two.”

He perked up. 

Alya scrutinized her phone’s battery before taking the risk, dialing in Marinette’s number. “While I’m sure people wouldn’t mind Chat Noir jumping around the city all day, it’s December. You’ll freeze out there.”

“Alya? Where are you? Everyone’s regrouping at class,” Marinette’s rapid, worried chatter greeted her. 

“Girl, you worry too much. A black cat crossed my path and I had to follow.” She winked at him across the table. He smiled innocently in response, setting his elbows on the table. “You know how it is. I’m safe, by the way. Not so sure about the cat.”

Marinette gasped. “Chat Noir’s hurt?! What happened? Where are you?!”

“Calm down, calm down!” Alya sighed, trying to calm her friend across the phone line. Chat leaned forward, almost too interested in the conversation. She leaned back in retaliation. 

“Did you see Adrien? He’s not in class, either, and Nino says he’s not picking up his phone.”

Chat was leaning in close enough to overhear Marinette’s voice, and she gave him a pointed look. He blanched, then hurriedly supplied, “Agreste? Uh, yeah, I got him out of the way before you arrived.”

Alya covered the receiver of her phone, hissing at him, “Well, where’d you leave him? He’s missing!”

“Er-” Chat looked out the window. “I might’ve put him on a roof? I’m sure he’ll get down.” He added under his breath, “Eventually.”

Alya sighed, and reassured Marinette; “Chat Noir saved him, don’t worry. He probably went home. He’s famous, Marinette. His bodyguard or secretary is probably with him. His cute face is important.” 

That ‘eventually’ hadn’t been so sure, however. Alya eyed Chat with a raised eyebrow, but he looked away, fidgeting with the ring on his finger. 

“Listen, I have a favor to ask you. It’s of Ladyblog importance.” She waited until Marinette fell silent, or at least silent enough, her nervous lip-chewing whining under the static of the call. “Let’s meet at your place after school. We’ll talk about things then.”

Alya tapped the screen to end the call, and looked up to find Chat staring intently on her. “So… Marinette? That was the friend?” 

“Yeah, she’s my best friend. You’ve met her before, as- in your other persona,” Alya quickly amended, and winked. “You’ve saved us all more than a few times. Don’t worry, she’ll definitely help you out, especially when she finds out you’re the guy who’s been running around in a tight catsuit.” 

“No, we can’t-” He started to shake his head, then pulled back, a crooked grin spreading over his face. “Forget what I just said. Yeah. But just Marinette, okay? No big reveals on your blog.” 

Alya pouted, but couldn’t help the smile, too giddy at finally, finally knowing one superhero’s face. “Alright, no big unmasking. But you owe me an interview for this.”

“Deal.”


	3. Just Another Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: Chat Noir's POV, Marinette's POV, Chat Noir is so conflicted, uber suspicious Marinette
> 
> This chapter was a pain to edit. Partly because brain fog, partly because dialog is not my strong suit, and partly because Chat Noir has so many emotions and doesn't know how to react to things. He's still figuring out this new "Allard" persona. 
> 
> By the way, have you checked out my Twitter? Link is in my profile.

**Wish**

The boy in the mirror wasn’t Adrien. He had to wave his fingers in front of the mirror a few times to convince himself that this was indeed a mirror showing his own reflection and not some other boy’s image. 

Four sharpened canines as if he had pried open a stray cat’s mouth instead of his own. Golden tan skin and messy golden hair -- not the sun-starved pale and platinum blond that featured in so many magazines. His outfit hadn’t changed; still pieces from the latest _Gabriel_ holiday line that Natalie had given him to subtly advertise. His coat was white, but he felt as if he was still wearing the black suit of Chat Noir, as if he had thrown his civilian clothes on top. At least the green sheen from his mask hadn’t bled into the white of his eyes. 

As he followed Alya along the streets of Paris, rolling the stubby form of his baton in his hands, he noticed the lack of attention. Eyes glossed over him. Glances didn’t double back. 

Nobody saw Adrien Agreste. To everyone passing by, he was just another kid. He didn’t mind. He didn’t feel much like Adrien right then. More like an unlucky black cat. 

He brushed his coat pocket. Instead of a phone, Plagg took up that cosy niche, sleeping. Fortunately or unfortunately, Adrien’s phone was in his bag back at school. He’d have to ask the black kwami about everything later. Stuck midway through the transformation sounded like Plagg’s doing. 

Alya’s voice broke through his thoughts. “This is the place.” 

Right. The bakery. He had come by Marinette’s place a few times, in both guises, albeit more often from unconventional directions as Chat Noir. Adrien came as a class and tentative friend; Chat Noir confided his emotions in Marinette under the stars. 

“Usually I’m entering buildings from windows or the roof,” he commented. “Going in through the front like a civilian feels…boring.”

Now he came to Marinette as a third person…unless he revealed himself. That was the thought he stuck on as they went inside, Alya’s curls bouncing as she went straight past the counter. 

“ _Bonjour_ , Madame and Monsieur Dupain-Cheng! We’re headed up to see Marinette.” Before she could go very far, they were both called to a halt. 

“Now, hold on, you two.” 

Alya backtracked the couple of steps down. “Yes, Madame Dupain-Cheng?”

Chat turned to look at Madame Dupain-Cheng, and the gentle smile on her face made him pause, rocking back on his heels. He almost missed her question. 

“Is this a new friend?”

Alya answered before Chat could get his tongue to work; “This is Allard. He goes to that other school over the Seine,” she introduced him. “I thought he could hang out with us today since this parents are busy with stuff.”

“Father,” Chat blurted out, correcting that small detail. Alya shot him a curious look. “I live with my father. He’s pretty busy lately, I don’t want to be in his way.”

Marinette’s mother nodded. “You two go on, just call if you need anything.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Alya took his arm, yanking him past to a door leading to a living room. He glanced back to the two adults, searching for something that said his cover had been blown, but found no recognition in their eyes. The door swung shut, leaving the bakery behind. 

“Marinette! We’re coming up!” Alya called as she raced up the stairs, knocking on the trapdoor on the ceiling. Someone above flipped it open, and Alya climbed up. Marinette’s voice drifted down. 

“So what’s this about a favor, Alya?”

Chat Noir poked his head in through the trapdoor after Alya, and Marinette’s eyebrows went up. “You said this was Ladyblog stuff, Alya,” she said, suspicion in her voice.

“It is. And this,” she said, gesturing grandly to Chat, “is Chat Noir.” 

He obliged with a grand bow in turn. “ _Enchante_ , Princess.” 

Marinette’s eyes widened before narrowing, skeptical. “…really, Alya? Is this like when you suspected Chloe?” She stood up, approaching Chat, apology written all over her face. “Listen, if Alya just caught you on the scene or if you were cosplaying as Chat Noir, I’m really sorry for her dragging you-”

He raised his hands, stopping her. “Quick question: Do you recognize me?” He had to know. 

Marinette blinked. “Uh, no, not really.” She looked him over again, up and down, searching for something familiar. Her eyes lingered on the nondescript Gabriel tag on his coat pocket. “Should I? You’re not in any of my classes.”

A feeling of elation shot through him along with relief, and he couldn’t help the grin that came to his face. “The cat is out of the bag, Princess. I’m Chat Noir.” 

Marinette’s jaw dropped. She spluttered, then whirled on Alya. “Why come to me?” 

“Girl, I’ve got three siblings,” Alya pointed out. “There isn’t enough room in my apartment. Just look at this!” She waved her arms around, emphasizing the space. “You’ve got enough room to hide both superheroes of Paris, with enough to spare for them to practice those crazy stunts they do jumping around the city!”

“Hey,” Chat interrupted, enjoying himself too much to be upset. “I can be a good kitty. Give me a patch of sunlight and I’ll nap until sundown.”

Marinette glanced between them, her eyes wide. “Enough room for what?” Then, narrowing her eyes, she zeroed in on the baton in his hand. Her tone turned accusing -- confident in a way he rarely saw the shy, meek girl at school. “How do I know you’re Chat Noir? The superheroes have run into impostors before!”

Alya sighed, her shoulders slumping. She stepped in between the two. “Marinette, I saw him transform. Don’t you trust my word?”

“No, I- Alya, I trust you, I just-- Ladybug and Chat Noir have never revealed their identities before-”

“It’s fine,” Chat cut in, grinning wider, although it felt tight this time. Transforming wouldn’t hurt anything. If he ended up as Adrien when the suit fell again, well, that solved one problem while creating another. “Relax, I can prove it. All I need is some Camembert.”

Alya raised an eyebrow. “What does cheese have to do with this?”

But it clicked for Marinette, evidently. “Camembert, coming right up!” She hurried down the trapdoor. Chat winced when he heard her slip a few steps on her way down. 

“I’m okay!”

Alya and Chat exchanged glances. 

Marinette stumbled over herself when she returned to the room. She was out of breath, but her expression was determined as she held out the cheese. “Sorry, we didn’t have any Camembert. Is brie okay?”

Chat took the cheese, not sure if he should be thanking everything above that he wasn’t subject to a smell as fierce a smell as Camembert. “It should be. Plagg, time to wake up and eat.” He waved the hunk of cheese around his coat pocket, trying to lure out Plagg. Stinky cheese was still stinky cheese. 

“Plagg?” Marinette echoed.

“Plagg?” Alya repeated, confused and more than a little skeptical. “What kind of name is Plagg?”

Chat shrugged. “It’s a kwami’s name.” He gently nudged the bulge in the coat pocket, and both girls stilled at the replying hiss. “He’s just being grumpy. Well, he’s like this most of the time, but... C’mon, Plagg, I need you right now.”

“Okay, this is getting weird,” Alya said. “Why do you need this kwami thing to convince Marinette? Can’t you just transform to convince her?”

“Euh, I can’t really...” Chat gestured vaguely. “It’s not that easy. This little guy does most of the work. All my power comes from Plagg. I just make puns.” He gingerly pulled the kwami out of his pocket, and cupped Plagg in his hand, doing his best not to disturb the sleeping kwami. 

Immediately, Alya and Marinette were all over Plagg, rushing forward to get better looks, and Chat winced at the identical squeals of cuteness. Plagg rolled over in his hand, trying to cover his ears. 

“So does Ladybug have one of these as well?” Alya asked, the light bulb over her head sparking as she connected the dots. “Her power comes from a tiny ball of cuteness?”

Chat wasn’t sure how to respond to that ‘cute’ comment. “Yeah, that’s how our powers work. When they get too tired, we can’t transform.”

Plagg stirred, opening one eye to glare at the rude interruption to his sleep. That interruption being cheese, however, he perked up, but that didn’t infuse him with enough life and energy for as much as a transformation. He rolled over to latch onto the treat, and lazily munched on it, putting up with the three humans staring at him while he ate. 

“...I don’t think he’s going to transform me this time. Sorry, ladies.” His tongue felt twisted in his mouth. 

If he could just transform, Plagg might be able to fix whatever went wrong. But, right then, he would be transforming in front of Alya and Marinette. Outing his real identity to people who knew how to make life harder for him with that knowledge. However, going back to life as Adrien would have meant being able to go home and go back to school the next day like normal. He ignored the part of him that sighed at the idea of going back to an empty house. 

“That’s good-- I mean…” Marinette chuckled nervously. “I wouldn’t want my parents overhearing something like that, or walking in and seeing you as Chat Noir, or...”

Alya put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “She’s saying it’s fine, Allard. I think she’s convinced.”

Marinette coughed, bringing them back. “And there’s also the trapdoor,” she noted, glancing back to it; at any point, her parents might pop in to check up on the three. 

Chat sat on the couch, still frowning at the black kwami in his hands. 

Plagg rubbed his eyes, and dropped the cheese when he caught sight of his wielder’s face. He picked it back up, clutching it to his chin like some precious gem, but Chat didn’t miss the reaction. Not even his kwami recognized him. He sighed, and gently set Plagg down on a throw pillow. Finishing off the cheese, Plagg snuggled into the pillow, and dozed back to sleep, a few specks of cheese sticking to his whiskers. 

“He’s really tired out,” Alya commented, still looking at Plagg as if he was an adorable kitten. 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine after a cat nap.”

Marinette stepped away, gesturing Alya over. She glanced to Chat. “I just need to talk to Alya for a minute.” 

They moved to the other end of the room, speaking in hushed tones. He heard them loud and clear, but kept his eyes on Plagg, one finger stroking over the kwami’s back. One more trait carried over from Chat Noir to this half-transformation. 

“Why did you bring him here? Why couldn’t you have just left him alone?” Marinette, whispering in that frantic panic she always used with Alya when he was nearby. 

A pause, before Alya spoke. “We need to talk. Allard doesn’t really have anywhere to go right now…”

Marinette’s voice was skeptical. “Yeah? I still don’t trust him; what did he tell you?”

Alya sighed. “I thought you believed he was Chat Noir, Superhero of Paris? Ladybug’s partner?”

“Yeah, but… What’s this about? You mentioned you couldn’t have him at your house, and… why doesn’t he have anywhere to go?” she asked, repeating Alya’s words back at her in a question. “Do you really want him to stay at my house for a few days..?”

“Maybe a week. Mari, we can’t leave him outside. It’s only going to get colder out, and schools are closing soon for the holidays; otherwise, I’d tell him to hide out in his school’s theatre or something. I’m not about to let Chat Noir freeze on the streets of Paris in winter.” 

“A week? My parents aren’t going to let a boy I just met stay over for a week!”

“You won’t know until you ask. Besides, we aren’t lying when we say he’s a friend who we’ve known for a while.”

“Why can’t he go home? That’s _Gabriel_ brand clothing he’s wearing. He probably has enough pocket change in his wallet alone to get a hotel room for the night.” 

Chat finally spoke up, commenting, “You know I can hear you, right?”

They stopped, and both looked to him, cringing. 

“...super hearing, huh? C’mon, Marinette, let’s go downstairs.”

Chat idly pet Plagg with two fingers. Once he was sure the girls had disappeared downstairs, though, he snuck over to the trapdoor. With one last glance to check on Plagg, he pulled it open. Just a crack. He probably shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but he couldn’t resist the temptation.

“They’re talking about me, anyway…” he reasoned with himself, then fell quiet as he heard Marinette’s voice.

“-I just think there’s something suspicious about his story and needing a place to stay.”

His ears perked up. 

“Marinette, I was scared he was about to break into tears at the cafe. He woke up concussed, confused, and panicking that I’d share his secret with the world. He’s an anxious mess.”

Chat’s mind came to a halt at that. Anxious mess? Maybe a little stressed. But that had to be expected with a childhood career of modeling.

“I really don’t think he has a good home life. He told me his father isn’t very supportive of what he does.”

He heard nothing -- then a defeated sigh.

“Fine, I’ll ask my parents. But you owe me for this.”

“Just make sure he doesn’t skip out on that interview he promised me.”

Wait. That cafe questioning hadn’t been the interview?! Maybe she meant a video recorded interview. 

“What?” Marinette sighed. ”Alright, let’s just do this first…”

Chat strained his ears, but heard nothing clearly after the sound of the door shutting. Reluctantly, he closed the trapdoor, and retreated back to the couch, to Plagg’s side.

“I hope you have some answers for this when you wake up,” he murmured. He laid back on his back, spinning his baton in his hands above him.

His father would probably notice. Eventually. As soon as Natalie and the Gorilla gave in and admitted they’d lost him. He had a winter shoot scheduled for a holiday edition of a magazine, complete with fake snow. He could probably push off until tomorrow morning to show up out of nowhere. After that, his father’s reaction would probably be to lock him up in his room and ban him from going to school for a month or two.

…somehow, he didn’t want this strange situation to end. 

\-----

“Of course he’s welcome to stay. Dinner’s in a few hours, we’ll set out an extra plate.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped at her mother’s answer. Alya shot her a told-you-so look. “But-”

But something wasn’t right about this boy. His claims to be her superhero partner didn’t add up, even taking into account Chat Noir’s tendency to dramatize and turn everything into a joke. Things she hadn’t had a chance yet to ask Tikki about.

Her first instinct was that she’d been found out. That this Allard somehow knew her secret. 

“Marinette, he’s your friend. I thought you wanted to help him? As long as you two don’t stay up too late, and don’t lock any doors…”

“-I think they’ll be fine,” Alya cut in, saving Marinette from the awkwardness. “Marinette’s too obsessed with _~fashion model Adrien Agreste~_ to look at any other boys twice.”

“Alya,” squeaked Marinette, face flushed. Even if she knew her parents had no doubt seen all the Adrien pictures pinned and taped around her room, there was the principle of the thing! 

Her mother laughed, and thankfully didn’t bring up that little detail. “He has to call his father and let him know where he is tonight. And focus on your homework. There are spare linens in the closet!” 

Marinette was already on her way, escaping the conversation with a burning face, Alya right behind her. 

“I keep telling you, your parents are the nicest people I’ve ever met,” Alya insisted as they ducked out of the bakery again. 

“I’m still not sure I trust him,” Marinette said. “Just something about him feels off to me…”

“Let’s just try one night, okay? One,” Alya offered. “Then if you go missing or end up in a ditch tomorrow morning, I’ll give the Ladybug and real Chat Noir the heads-up that there’s a fake Chat Noir on the loose.”

“Very funny. But, thanks.”

They both went up the trapdoor, to find Allard just as they had left him.

Alya was the first to say something; “Do you do that all the time? I guess it makes sense that you and Ladybug would have to practice a ton to be able to do those fancy tricks in battle.”

That drew Marinette’s attention to the baton, twirling, twirling, in Allard’s hands. It seemed so effortless, and an action she had seen her Chat Noir repeat over and over, even in battle. Ladybug had done it with similar makeshift weapons -- but Marinette could only successfully twirl things as small as a pen. Even then, it was a usually a matter of time before her poor hand-eye coordination hit her in the face with it. 

Alya and Allard were talking, but she didn’t hear them, her mind whirling. 

The Miraculous powers didn’t work that way. When Ladybug took off the mask and went back to being Marinette -- nothing carried over. None of the dexterity in throwing her yo-yo to catch onto something to swing from, none of the muscle memory of a credible fighting style, and none of the fitness to do a backflip properly. She didn’t even get the yo-yo. Which make this scene all the more incredible. Miraculous powers did work like that. 

“My mom said you can stay, but she wants you to call your dad to tell him where you are,” she said, interrupting the strange sight of Allard showing off Chat Noir’s baton tricks to Alya. “You can sleep on that couch. I have some spare travel-size things you can borrow for the week,” she explained. She had no intention of letting him stay more than the one night. 

Allard smiled, but it was marred by a grimace. “Er, can I borrow one of your phones?” he asked, and flipped open the communicator on his baton. “This thing only connects me to ladybug.”

Marinette hesitated, and Alya rolled her eyes, pulling out her own phone. “Here. But I have to get home soon.”

Allard said a quick thanks, taking the phone, and flashed them both an innocent smile as he climbed down the trapdoor. Suspicious, but not enough to have Marinette running after him. 

“Really, Marinette, he’s not going to bite you…”

“I know, it’s just…” But she couldn’t explain how she knew so much about the Miraculous powers. “Ugh.” She buried her face in another pillow, and glared at the sleeping kwami. She would have to somehow get answers out of that one later.

This wasn’t a Miraculous. More like an akuma. One that had stolen Chat Noir’s kwami. Or something that looked like a kwami. 

The minutes passed in silence, and Marinette was still lost in her thoughts when Allard returned. He passed the phone back to Alya. 

“ _Bonne chance_ ,” she told Allard on her way out. “Don’t keep Marinette up too late, I need her well and rested for school tomorrow.”

“Aye, aye, captain!”

Marinette gave one more concerned glance to Plagg before sitting up and giving a tight smile to her new house guest. An akuma that just wanted to get away from his family for a while…with a penchant for Chat Noir. 

“Thanks. Sorry I’m imposing on you like this. I know this isn’t what you’d expect from one of the local superheros…”

“It’s fine,” Marinette said a little too quickly. That line of thinking hit too close to her own thoughts. When she first put on the earrings and donned the mask, she had no confidence; that she was definitely the wrong person for the job. Those ideas still lingered, no matter how many akuma she cleansed. “About that… Why didn’t you go to Ladybug about this? You two are always together.” Any akuma impersonating Chat Noir was on a countdown as soon as they ran into Ladybug and suddenly had something to fear. 

But Allard had an answer for that; “We keep our civilian identities secret from each other. It’s her rule, and, well, she disappeared after the akuma earlier today. I couldn’t leave Alya without making sure she didn’t advertise my identity across Paris, anyway.” He shrugged, batting the baton between his hands. A good excuse. 

“...I’ll go look for a toothbrush. I know we have spares somewhere.”

Marinette glanced over her shoulder as she headed into the bathroom. Allard’s attention was on the black kwami, almost as if he was genuinely concerned for the small creature. But not suspicious. 

Once the door was closed behind her, Marinette opened her purse, and a dizzying red zoomed out. 

“What do you think, Tikki?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet. “Something just doesn’t feel right. Chat Noir wouldn’t do this, he just… he’s not like this.” 

“He doesn’t look like the right Chat Noir,” Tikki replied, wringing her tiny hands together. “But he has Plagg. That’s Chat Noir’s kwami.” 

“So he’s telling the truth about that… Do you think Hawkmoth finally got one of us? An akuma that really wants to be Chat Noir?” 

They had faced an akuma who pretended to be another Miraculous superhero. They had faced a carbon copy of Chat Noir. They had faced a wannabe Ladybug. An akuma kidnapping Chat Noir’s akuma wasn’t so out of the realm of possibility. She could figure out Alya’s claims later. 

“I have to talk to Plagg. Marinette, you have to get Plagg alone, he’ll know what’s going on.”

“Is he…” Marinette hesitated. “I’m sure Plagg’s okay, Tikki. He’s probably just tired and hasn’t had time to recharge after the battle earlier,” she reassured her kwami. “Here’s the plan: at dinnertime, I’ll make sure Allard leaves Plagg in my room, and you stay behind to talk to Plagg, okay?”

She tucked Tikki away in her purse again before taking a deep breath. She could do this. Even with a kwami-thief in her bedroom. “I knew he didn’t feel right,” she muttered under her breath, opening the cabinet. 

She grabbed a toothbrush still in its packaging and toothpaste, before existing the bathroom. 

“Hey, I found the spare toothbrush! It was hiding in the back of the cupboard…”

It was going to be a long evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two other fics with similar ideas of becoming the hero full-time:
> 
> -Masked Permanently by alexbluewolf -- Marinette gets stuck in the suit  
> -Seeking Shelters by GuardianKarenTerrier -- Adrien runs away from home and spends all his time as Chat Noir
> 
> Give them a read and drop the authors some kudos! I had this story outlined and plotted before stumbling on them, but I primarily write what I want to read, so these were a treat. I like to think that I gained some insight into what my story was lacking.


	4. Fur Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: mention of abusive home, Chat's identity crisis
> 
> edits for forever and then yeets it up here

Marinette’s plan came up with nothing. 

Nada. Rien. Niente. 

Not for lack of trying, however. Oh, she tried, narrowing her eyes and raising her shields, sneaking around while being gentle enough to keep Hawkmoth from pushing for more complete control of Allard. The boy definitely had strong willpower, to have avoided falling so deep into Hawkmoth’s clutches as to forget himself. But if she pushed too hard, the emotional hurt would give Hawkmoth an opening. 

She was so sure that a sneaky approach would be best,. If Allard already had Chat Noir’s kwami and, potentially, his Miraculous as well, she couldn’t risk a fight where her partner couldn’t back her up. It was so obvious that this was Hawkmoth’s work. Chat Noir may have been an idiot, but he would never volunteer up his identity; Ladybug had warned heavily against that, and he was too smitten to go against her. For once, Marinette didn’t mind his crush, and was just glad she had such a loyal partner. 

Miraculous powers didn’t even work like Allard had shown off; they didn’t carry over to their civilian forms. Her yo-yo had never remained when she wasn’t in the suit, and she was sure someone would have recognized Chat’s baton before this. On top of that, the Chat she knew didn’t seem like someone coming from a bad home life. He never dropped any obvious hints, never showed up with bruises or previous injuries, and overall seemed like a well-adjusted guy, if something of a clown. 

But Marinette was ready to throw in the towel and call on Tikki by the end of the day. 

They turned the couch in her bedroom into a bed together, Allard gingerly moving Plagg from one spot to another, but never so far away and sheltered enough that Tikki could swoop in to do her own investigations. Marinette crafted her questions carefully. Plagg was clearly a soft spot for Allard, fully taking to the role of Chat Noir. 

Dinner came up with zero success, either. Her suggestion of giving Plagg peace and quiet was brushed off in favor of keeping him close, tucked away in a pocket. Little tidbits of cheese went missing from Allard’s plate into there. 

If nothing else, she learned something about Allard’s home life, his reasoning behind this evident longing for escaping to the world of fighting crime. His father? An absent jerk. Never around, and always cold. Strict. It was all too obvious in the surprise and fascination he showed to the Dupain-Cheng family chatting around the table, and the stark manners with which he ate. Dinner was always a social event for the Dupain-Chengs, but it was a new experience for Allard. Marinette almost worried the novelty and unfamiliarity would set off akuma rage, and her tension melted when it didn’t. 

As Marinette collapsed into bed, staring up at the ceiling, she wondered how she could have so badly messed this up. Should she have poked more? Asked more? Or maybe invited him to join her in more activities, more experiences in a house that wasn’t oppressed by loneliness and judgment? At least she could give Allard a warming place to stay on this cold evening, away from a cold father. 

She turned off the lights once she could see Allard settling into bed below her loft, and sighed, turning over in bed. Ladybug and Chat Noir would have to pop this mystery instead. 

Marinette blinked, a noise catching her attention. She quickly shut her eyes again, realizing it was Allard making his move. She felt the night breeze, then it all stopped as the trapdoor shut again. She sat up. “Tikki. We have to go.” 

\----

As soon as Chat thought that Marinette had fallen asleep, he quietly slipped out of the makeshift bed. Even in the dark he could make out the pictures that hung on her walls, even two framed photos. When he had noticed the first few photos of his civilian identity, cut out from magazines and ads he had featured in, he had to look twice -- and couldn’t help but suddenly notice the rest of them. Ads, magazines, snapshot stills from commercials and runways, even packaging from the perfume named after him. It had taken an enormous amount of willpower not to react in that moment. 

A little weird? Yes. But from what he had seen on the internet? Average stan culture. She hadn’t asked him for an autograph or photos yet, so clearly Marinette wasn’t obsessed to an unhealthy level. Just the average level of obsessed. The pictures struck him as _off_ , but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. 

It didn’t take long to climb the stairs, getting ever closer to Marinette’s bed, and he used his baton for leverage to get above without disturbing her bed. Chat pulled himself up through the trap door, and closed it behind him quietly. “Plagg, claws out,” he whispered. Black bubbled over him.

Once he was sufficiently masked, he took off, racing to the end of the rails of the balcony to get a running start, putting distance between him and the bakery. He caught flashes of himself in glimmering windows and brittle metal. Mask in place, full suit; it gave him hope for Plagg’s well-being. And his ability to get fully into the escapism of a superhero. 

Ladybug had been adamant that they should keep their identities from each other, and he felt that his current living situation qualified under that. Even if he wasn’t sure if that rule would hold up well after tonight. 

He leaped onto another roof, and paused, breathing in the frosty Paris air. “What I wouldn’t give for a fur coat right now.” He fiddled with his baton, the communicator popping up from the top, the miniature screen lighting up. “Your prince reporting for duty, My Lady,” he purred. 

Three dots bounced on the screen. Ladybug’s face filled the screen a moment later. He could hear her teeth chattering through the connection, but she looked glad to see him. Before she could say anything, he said, “Something came up and I need to talk to you.”

“Uh-” This clearly took her off-guard. “Alright. I’ll be right over. Are you okay, Chat?”

“The sight of you is already making me feel better, My Lady.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes, and the connection abruptly cut off. Chat allowed his baton to slide in his hands, grabbing the very end of it before it could drop off the side of the building. He idly tapped out a tune with it on the edge of the roof as he waited. Paris glittered in the frosty air. 

She wasn’t quiet. Like her namesake, she flitted through the air with an almost silent flutter of the wind. Chat laid back, resting on his elbows as he craned his neck. She had evidently adjusted for the colder weather, a spotted cloak around her shoulders, a fur of otherworldly quality brushing her neck. “My Lady,” he greeted, and she returned it with a regal nod. 

“So what is this about, Chat?” Ladybug walked over to the edge with him, dropping down to look over the city with him. He leaned closer to her, brushing against the soft fur. It still smelled like her, to his relief. 

Ladybug pushed him back a respectable distance, and pulled the cloak closer. “So…” She raised an eyebrow at his unmoving smile. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Right, that. Sorry. Got distracted,” he said, still distracted. He reluctantly moved his gaze to the city. “During that akuma fight today, I…got into some trouble.” He grimaced, the echoes of Alya’s voice in his head, begging him to wake up. “My transformation ran out in front a civilian. She knows. Well, two civilians now. …but you probably have one or two close friends you’ve already told, right?”

He turned to Ladybug to find a frown. A strange look on her face, something akin to disappointment. Disappointment that he had failed to keep the ultimate secret exactly that; a secret. They didn’t even know each other’s faces beyond the mask. “No,” she said softly, shaking her head minutely. “I’ve kept it a secret.”

Chat laughed. “Guess I’ve just got bad luck, huh? My Lady plays by the rules, and I’m the cat that comes and knocks the vase off the table. I’m sure, just this once, letting the secret slip will be fine. It’s not like I’m attached to any big name celebrity or anything like that, nobody’ll care.”

“Chat, what are you-”

“Plagg, claws off.” 

Chat didn’t look to see Ladybug’s reaction. For a moment his heart stuttered, thinking he made a mistake, that he would be sitting there, revealing himself as the famous teen model like an idiot. But then his canines cut on his lips, his eyesight didn’t dim from the night vision the suit gave him, and the baton still hung from his hand. Running a hand through his hair, it felt coarser and more unkempt than any Agreste model would be allowed to have. 

Nothing that felt remotely like starched-collar perfect-model Adrien. He pulled out a piece of cheese that he’d snagged from the bakery, and Plagg zipped straight for it. The kwami glanced to Ladybug, but turned away from both superheroes, evidently not pleased with this turnout. “He’ll come around,” Chat said. “I go by the name Allard, but that’s not my real name.”

“It’s…not?”

Chat glanced to Ladybug, and found her with a hand over her mouth, hiding her shock at his easy trust. He shook his head. “Nope. I think something got messed up in the transformation,” he explained. “This isn’t my real face. C’mon, you didn’t think I’d really be this ruggedly handsome behind the mask, did you?”

He laughed, but Ladybug was silent. Emotions flitted over her face, guilt and regret settling in her eyes, glassy behind the mask. 

“My baton doesn’t even disappear now,” he added, spinning it in one hand, marveling at how easy the action came to him. 

“I… Chat.”

“My eyes look more cat-like like this. I look so fierce, I can’t help but check myself out in the mirror-”

“Chat Noir.”

Chat Noir stopped, his words cut off by the stern hurt in her tone. Then frowned, looking down over the edge of the roof to avoid her eyes. 

Ladybug sighed, and sat beside him on the roof. He saw out of the corner of his eye, how her hands hesitated to reach out for him; he was teetering on the edge of the roof out of the suit, of course she wouldn’t want him to fall and hurt himself. But the Miraculous reflexes still twitched in his muscles, assuring him very well that he would be just fine to reach out and jam his baton in the side of the building on the way down to break his fall, if he didn’t take it in a casual flip and somersault. 

“...is this why you didn’t come back after I purified the akuma?” Ladybug asked. “We always fist-bump after an akuma. I knew you were running out of paws on your ring, so I thought you just didn’t have the time to meet up right after.” 

“I knew we cut it pretty close sometimes, but I don’t blame you for any of this, my Lady.”

“I know you don’t, Chat, but… We’re supposed to be a team. I should have at least run back to check on you.”

“I mean, if I had gotten out of the suit properly, you would have been better not to compromise my identity -- or yours,” he pointed out. “Your earrings were beeping, too.” He put a hand on her thigh, hoping that was a reassuring gesture. She tensed. 

“Chat-” Ladybug wrapped a strong arm around his waist, keeping him anchored there. He chuckled.

“There’s hardly any need to worry, my Lady. I told you, I’m not completely detransformed. I still have all that makes me Chat Noir. Well, except maybe the ears and tail. Regrettable, really. I should get one of those cat ear headbands that are all the rage right now. Y’know, I’ve never bought my own merch before.” 

Ladybug opened her mouth, but he didn’t pay attention to her, smacking his hands down on the ledge and launching himself off. 

“Chat Noir!” 

Chat rolled into a flip in the air, his baton already snapping out to extend, eyes darting to find just the right nook to jam it into--

Ladybug’s yo-yo flickered past him. The string looped around him just as his baton jammed into the side of the building, stopping his descent. He grabbed onto the baton with both hands and flung himself over it to come to a steady perch on the thin balance beam-- 

Well, that was the original plan, anyway. With the yo-yo string in the way, he managed to get himself tangled in it, his baton adding to the equation. 

“I’m so, so, sooo sorry, Chat,” Ladybug fretted over him, creeping down the ledges of the building to begin untying him from her rather sturdy yo-yo trap. “You were just so close to the edge, and you don’t have the mask on, and you just jumped, and I--” 

Chat Noir laughed. His lady didn’t seem to think it was as funny. 

“Take some time to clear your head, kitty,” Ladybug sighed, shaking her head. “Patrol is canceled tonight.”

Plagg transformed him with clear reluctance, but strangely enough, no protests or fights for more cheese bribes. They split off, leaping in opposite directions. Per request, Chat Noir went in the opposite direction of Marinette’s house, hoping his Lady was right, and that a few rounds around Paris in the cool winter air would do him some good. Per habit, Ladybug went off in exactly the opposite direction of him. 

Chat Noir landed on Marinette’s balcony, and looked up at the sky. Clouds had drifted over to cover the moon during his leaping laps through Paris. He spent a few minutes staring up at it, his heart and breathing slowing, the rush of running through cool air fading, leaving him a lost kitty at someone’s door. Black swirled off his skin, and he caught Plagg in his hand. 

“Plagg, why don’t we get a cool suit upgrade? Something warmer for the winter, maybe,” he mused, watching the moon as he gently brushed Plagg’s ears down with his thumb. “My Lady looked so regal with that fur lining.”

He glanced down when he didn’t get a reply, and sighed. The kwami had passed out, fast asleep once more. He turned and crept back inside Marinette’s bedroom, closing the trapdoor as quietly as possible, and managed to avoid waking Marinette in his descent down. Before climbing back into his makeshift bed, he stopped, his green eyes landing on a poster of himself.

No, not himself; Adrien Agreste. He stared at it with a frown, stuck on how viewing it as a mirror seemed so, so wrong. The celebrity life had never been him, those smiles had never been him, and tomorrow, they still wouldn’t be him. Tomorrow, that smile would be the farthest thing from him, as it looked like he wasn’t about to head home soon after all. 

It was funny, he thought with no humour, tearing his eyes away from that mirror-that-wasn’t-a-mirror, that he had been denying all that was the name _Adrien_ by taking on the mask of Chat Noir, and now, trying to go home, he was being denied ownership of his own identity. Or... Chat shook his head, and headed to bed. He wasn't sure what was the mask and what wasn't anymore.


	5. Worries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: others have noticed a lack of Adrien, Marinette is a stressed bab, they argue
> 
> My grammar is a little different for this chapter compared to previous chapters. I usually like to play with pace, natural streams of thought, and sudden wild rides for the reader with my sentence structures, but that didn't feel like it fit for this chapter. I recently started a new job that demands really strict adherence to a certain set of grammar rules. So, while I'm all for tossing prescriptivist notions out the window and dragging the reader out on a journey of halting anxiety as narrators themselves barely have space to breathe, I really have to get into the habit of using this grammar. It works out better for these more laid-back stories, anyway. 
> 
> Kudos to CaughtFeelings for being a great beta reader for this chapter!
> 
> By the way, have you heard I have a Twitter? Because I do.

Marinette yawned. 

“Long night?” Alya asked, taking her place at the seat beside her, stowing her bag under the desk. 

“No- well, yes,” Marinette admitted. She hadn’t gotten much sleep after meeting with Chat Noir outside and then subsequently sprinting to get back while he circled Paris like she asked him. Her mind kept her awake running through so many thoughts and sheer guilt. “I barely know him, and he’s…you know, a hero, on top of that. I couldn’t sleep with him there, just being-- doing--” She gestured wildly, trying to illustrate all that Chat Noir was, and the fact of sharing a room with that force of nature. “He’s judging me for all the weird stuff and weird fashion sketches and pictures of Adrien I have in my room, I just know it!”

“I meant about Adrien.” Alya rolled her eyes. “I figured you’d be worrying yourself all night over him. I even tried calling to check up on you, but you didn’t answer your phone.”

Marinette sat up. “Adrien? What happened? There wasn’t a special magazine edition featuring him that demands he travels to a far-off country that was announced last night that I missed, was there?”

“No. He’s missing, Marinette.” 

Marinette rocked back, suddenly feeling numb. “Missing?” She grabbed her friend by the collar, glancing first to Adrien’s empty seat in front of her, then to the door. But the boy of her dreams didn’t walk in. Her head jerked to stare to Alya with wide eyes. “What. Happened.”

Alya gently eased Marinette’s hands off her sweater, and scooted closer to her, lowering her voice. “It’s all over social media. After the attack, he didn’t come back to school, and never went back home, either. His bodyguard hasn’t seen him at all,” she explained. “They’re saying he must’ve been kidnapped during the whole chaos during the akuma attack. Chat Noir was probably the last person to see him.”

Marinette glanced away from Alya, the class suddenly seeming so muted as everyone trickled in. As if a dark cloud loomed over them all, dampening their spirits. Even Chloe was suitably quiet and somber, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue every now and then as Sabrina offered sympathy. Phones dotted the desks, ready to light up with updates on the search. 

“Why didn’t you text me?” she asked Alya, keeping her voice down even as her pitch turned squeaky. “Was there a search party? How am I learning this now?! You let me sleep through this?”

“I thought you knew. We only found out last night, and police called my place so my parents could give consent to asking me questions about it. Calm down, Gabriel Agreste is hiring the best private investigators to search for Adrien; they’re not going to rest until he’s found.”

“I’m sure Adrien’ll be fine,” Nino said, sliding into his own seat in front of them. Adrien’s seat yawned, a gap in their usual friend group. “His old man’s a helicopter. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Adrien actually ran away- Ow!”

Nino cut off as Alya smacked him on the head with her notebook. “Don’t talk like that,” Alya scolded. “Adrien knows he has friends; he wouldn’t have done something like that without telling us!”

A shrill voice rang out across the classroom. “My angel Adrien, run away?” 

Marinette sighed, sinking her tired head into her hands. Please, she just wanted a moment to run through a million panicked possibilities and convoluted rescue plans, and Chloe was not helping that. 

“I hear you over there,” Chloe accused, standing up to point them out to the whole class. “Don’t make light of my Adrien’s disappearance. He’d never run away. He’s a famous model and heir to the Agreste estate. He’s out there on the streets, in the filth and cold, probably going hungry. But I guess that doesn’t sound like too much of a downgrade from your-”

“Chloe, I appreciate your passion, but that’s not kind,” Mme. Bustier said gently as she stepped in to the classroom. “Paris’s finest are on the job, and I am certain they will find Adrien soon.”

Marinette pushed her hair out of her face, staring at her desk. Chloe huffed and sat down, her scowl melting into shaky twitches barely holding it together. When she turned her head away, trying not to think about how ‘close’ Chloe was to Adrien, Marinette’s thoughts didn’t shut up. Her worries over Adrien bubbled to the surface even as Alya started taking notes beside her. 

Ladybug had to join the search party. She had to. 

As such a high-profile superhero, nobody would protest to Ladybug asking around for leads on her own. As a superhero, she could do her own investigation. With Chat Noir, she wouldn’t be the only super on the job. They could bounce ideas off of each other, like they did for akuma puzzles. Speaking of…

Marinette leaned back in her seat, mentally diving deeper into her planning. 

Chat Noir claimed to have escorted Adrien out of danger. If they retraced his steps, they could use that roof as a starting point. Chat, for all the power his Miraculous gave him, was still human and made mistakes; he could have left Adrien in the line of non-akuma danger without really considering the consequences. Sometimes, armed with an invincible suit and Miraculous instincts, their suits leading them in wonderful muscle memory feats, it was easy to forget the limitations of the average human being. 

Even she forgot the power of the suits at times, leaving Marinette wondering why she felt so tired after what seemed like running short distances and suffering the pain of a pulled muscle from trying to be more flexible than her body was ready to handle. Ladybug lost her clumsiness after a bit of practice; Marinette still tripped over herself and walked into closed doors. 

Adrien didn’t have the luxury of superpowers out there, wherever he was. Adrien couldn’t drop safely from a 3-story building, make the leap to another roof, or swing inside through a window. Not to mention fighting off anyone who recognized a famous, rich teen model. She would fight Hawkmoth to save him, and pirates holding him for ransom. Her dedication to Adrien was fierce enough that she knew she had to get to him before someone else swooped in to save him in a romance movie of the victim falling in love with his savior -- or worse: falling in love with his kidnapper from the sheer amount of time spent together. 

Then, once she found Adrien, she would supply him with all the warmth and home-baked croissants he needed to regain his strength, and he would fall in love with her in his overflowing gratitude. She could hear him now…

_“Marinette, my saviour! Marinette, you’re not just a friend, you’re…”_

“Marinette!”

Wait. That wasn’t Adrien’s voice-

She blinked, snapping her head up as she was pulled away from her fantasies to find Alya shaking her shoulder. Her friend nudged her again, making sure she really was back to reality. 

“Marinette,” Alya hissed, directing her eyes to lead Marinette to the front of the classroom. “Madame’s asking you a question!”

Scratch that. The whole class was staring at her. Marinette chuckled nervously, sinking down under her desk to escape the attention. “…oh.” 

Maybe it was better to leave the planning for lunch period. Planning had to be put off for lunch break for more reasons than just the block of time. The beats between classes turned into prime opportunities for collecting data. 

Exhibit A: Gossip. 

Alya didn’t question Marinette’s insistence that she definitely had to learn everything connected to Adrien’s disappearance. She belatedly realized this was because Alya expected her to obsess over Adrien, and not because she was information gathering for her own search later. She caught a few strange looks shot her way when she lingered around a corner or leaned too close to a couple of students discussing the topic. 

She tuned out news of comedic videos and homework woes, searching for those nuggets of Adrien. To her surprise, a lot of people were talking about Adrien. Not just their homeroom class. Sure, she knew he was a famous model, but she hadn’t expected so many kids at school to be affected by Adrien’s absence. The world seemed so small sometimes, as if only Adrien existed. Then when the dream bubble popped, she realized there was more to life than her and her crush. He had really made a place for himself at this school. 

She let Alya drag her from class to class, listening to students theorize about Adrien’s disappearance, and the spreading rumor of Alya and Marinette sharing a cute new beau--

“Alya.” Marinette narrowed her eyes at her friend. “How many people saw you and Chat- I mean- Allard, on your way to the bakery?”

Allard. Another mystery to contend with, one that had momentarily been pushed aside to process Adrien’s status. Just a boy, around her age -- she had gathered something like that in their time fighting together as Ladybug and Chat Noir, but it was still odd to think about. And…definitely toned. Even if he volleyed puns like it was a competitive sport more than brag about actual sports achievements, he seemed much more capable of being a superhero than she did. 

“...well, maybe a couple dozen?” Alya shrugged as if it didn’t matter. Marinette squeaked. “We were walking through the more touristy streets, in broad daylight. It’s not like he was in a black suit or anything, it’s fine. You worry too much.” 

“I know… But what if people start asking questions? I can keep a secret, but he’s…!” She made a noise that was a mix of exasperation and disgust and resignation. “What if he slips up?”

Alya raised an eyebrow at her interesting choice of expressive sounds. “Marinette, he’s lasted this long without anyone catching on to his identity. I’m sure he knows how to take care of himself. Besides, your parents are chill, it’s not anything weird to bring a boy home. People will just think he’s your boyfriend or something.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. I…” Marinette hesitated, and sighed. “…you’re right. I guess I’m just worried. Not to mention the holiday rush is coming up, and I haven’t finished everyone’s Christmas presents yet. Ugh, why are there suddenly so many things to worry about!”

“ _Ugh_ is right.”

\-------

Classes that day failed to hold Marinette’s attention for long. She eventually gave up on pretending to focus, and raised her hand to ask to go to the bathroom. She didn’t get that far after leaving the classroom, Tikki bobbing at her shoulder. 

“I have to find Adrien,” she confessed to Tikki, keeping an eye out for anyone who might notice her skipping class. Adrien needed help, and her worry had been clear since Alya had told her in homeroom, but she had a dying need to make it clear that she felt only she could find him. “He’s out there, in the cold! Lost! All alone! He could be hurt!”

“But Marinette,” Tikki tugged at her ear. “We don’t even know where to start looking!”

“I know! Ugh, if I hadn’t been so caught up with handling Chat yesterday, maybe I could have known sooner… I could have gone out and done something. Maybe I could have noticed something!” Her mind was whirling with her mistakes and all she could have done yesterday to save her crush. “If he’s been kidnapped, there’s no telling how far they could be from Paris by now!”

“You can’t blame yourself for this,” Tikki urged her. “The police are looking for him.”

Marinette stepped out a side door, and the frosty air hit her like a brick wall. The chattering of her teeth brought to mind a cold, shivering Adrien, in some dark, dirty alley. 

“I can help the police,“ she murmured aloud to herself. “I can cover more ground, and, and they’d definitely be open to help from Ladybug! They’ll definitely tell me about any leads. And Chat Noir saw Adrien during the attack, so we have a headstart on the search, if nobody else say where Chat left Adrien.”

“But after school,” Tikki pushed, fluttering on the issue. “You have to check on Allard after school-”

“-and Ladybug isn’t supposed to know where he’s staying,” Marinette finished, deflating. Her worries battled in her mind, the tug-o-war fought between worries over Adrien and worries over Allard, and couldn’t find a clear winner. “…I hope he’s found soon.”

Marinette returned to class, feeling helpless, her plans to scour Paris pushed back for later. If her classmates noticed a few tears in her eyes, they didn’t comment. 

\-----

When Chat… No, when _Allard_ woke up, he found himself alone. Well, nearly alone. After finding that Marinette was neither in bed nor downstairs, he still had Plagg, who appeared none too pleased at having his personal space heater up and about. Allard scooped up the little black kwami and went up to the balcony. 

“Don’t even think of running off,” Plagg grumbled as the chill air hit them, blinking in the lazy sunlight. “It’s too cold, and you can’t go home like this.”

“You recognize me, Plagg?”

“You don’t look like Adrien,” Plagg admitted, and Allard’s hope fell. “But I know my kit, and you feel like him.”

“That makes one of us,” Allard sighed. His spur-of-the-moment christening felt more appropriate to his current face. “Can you fix this, Plagg? Even Marinette doesn’t recognize me.”

Plagg yawned as Allard fretted. “I’ve never seen this happen with my holders before. But I’m so tired, I’m going to need more cheese before I really think about things.” He swept himself under Allard’s shirt, searching for familiar warmth. “Why’d you come up out here, anyway? It’s too early and too cold!”

Allard began to smile, even as Plagg tickled against his chest. “I’m glad you’re feeling better today, Plagg,” he said. “I just needed to get outside, I guess. I can’t go home like this, like you said. My father won’t recognize me.”

But maybe that didn’t really matter, anyway. He could probably avoid his father for a few days, if not a whole week. Natalie and the Gorilla would notice, of course, and turn the streets of Paris upside-down looking for him. But his father was his main concern, the one whose reaction he cared about the most. Like Plagg said, he didn’t look like himself. He didn’t look like the perfect Agreste son. 

“You’ll fix this later, right, Plagg? Then I’ll…” It felt wrong, saying that. It didn’t hold as much hope as he had intended. “Then I’ll go home.”

Plagg, under his shirt, didn’t respond.

“Allard? Are you awake?” Marinette’s mother, her voice traveling faintly through the open trapdoor 

Allard took another look over the rails of Marinette’s balcony before going back down the trapdoor, closing it behind him. 

“Sorry,” he said, leaping down to land on all-fours on the floor like a cat. He straightened up just in time to see the other trapdoor open, Madame Cheng peeking into the room. “Did Marinette already go to school?”

“A few hours ago,” she confirmed. “She said you looked like you needed the sleep. What was that thump I just heard?”

Allard smiled sheepishly at that. “Sorry,” he said again, and she interrupted before he could say anything more.

“It’s no problem. Come down for breakfast when you’re ready.” 

“Yeah! Thank you, Madame Cheng.”

Plagg slid out from under his shirt when the trapdoor closed again. Allard caught him and chuckled, setting him gently on a pillow. “Wait right here, Plagg. I’ll be back with some cheese soon,” he promised. 

He looked at his pile of clothes from the day before, and settled with changing into those again, taking them to the bathroom to change. Marinette had let him borrow some pajamas that were a size too big on her, but didn’t have much in the way of day clothes that were his size. Even if it was unlikely anyone would walk in on him, it still felt weird doing anything in Marinette’s bedroom. Not to mention with the posters staring right at him…

No, he was more comfortable getting ready in the bathroom. 

A breakfast of buttery croissants and sweet hazelnut spread awaited him on the kitchen table. He poked his head to look around the small apartment, but found he was alone. The perfect opportunity to swipe some cheese and deliver it to Plagg, returning to the breakfast to set out in record time. 

He found Marinette’s parents in the bakery, and they thankfully didn’t prod him about attending school that day. It was simple to ask what he could do to help out -- and that was it, his day suddenly filled with cleaning, restocking shelving, moving pastries this way and that, fetching ingredients from cupboards and fridges…It distracted him from thoughts of Natalie and Gorilla running themselves ragged trying to find him and of his father in a rage over his interrupted schedules. 

Having only seen the front of the bakery from a customer’s perspective, working from the opposite side was a much different experience than expected. 

He barely realized how much time had passed until he saw Marinette enter the bakery’s kitchen. He smiled and waved, and her surprise slid off her face, but she disappeared out of the kitchen.. Probably just gone upstairs to her room, so he didn’t worry. Every now and then, however, he glanced to the door in the back, waiting for Marinette to appear. 

So many people came in and passed through the bakery. Some he recognized, others he didn’t, but their eyes glanced over him all the same as if he wasn’t a famous model, and ordered their loaves and cakes. Recognized as just a new employee at the bakery. When he turned to grab something, he caught snatches of conversation mentioning the cute new employee. When he switched to working in the back, and Sabine chatted with regulars and friends, they asked about his name and if he would be working there from now on. 

Even if nobody recognized him as Adrien, Marinette and Alya recognized that he was Chat Noir. They knew him for himself. His achievements in protecting Paris, fighting against akumas, watching over its citizens on late-evening patrols, and as an occasional friend to those who needed one. 

That in mind, he glanced to the door again, and nearly jumped when Tom told him to ask Marinette if she wanted to come down for an after-school snack. Allard gathered himself and his runaway heart in time to agree to the task. He brushed the flour off his hands. 

He awkwardly knocked on the door on the ceiling, and pushed it up when he heard no objection. “Marinette? Princess?”

No response. But a familiar beeping had him scrambling up and darting to where Plagg rested. Allard swiped up his baton, and a small screen popped up with a button. For a moment, he feared Ladybug would see his unmasked face, but that was a worry without substance; she already knew Allard. He didn’t have anything to hide with this face. Plagg stirred on last night’s pillow, glaring at him for interrupting his cat nap.

He slid an easy smile over his face, sharp teeth snatching at his bite. “At your _bake_ and call, my Lady.” 

She ignored his theatrics. “Meet me outside, on our usual rooftop.” Short and to the point. That was his Ladybug. 

“Right away!”

It took some poking and soft pleads for Plagg to give in, and then Chat Noir clambered deftly up the ladder and out the trapdoor onto the balcony. He didn’t question why he didn’t spot Marinette while passing through her room, all thoughts of her vanishing as his mind was filled with his Ladybug. 

It was the same breathable suit as always, to his disappointment. He’d been hoping for some extra epic accessories to make him the snow prince to his snow lady…as well as some much-needed warmth. His claws were going to freeze out there. 

Chat pounced on the roof where his Lady waited, landing on all fours. “I came at _bake_ -neck speed. Where’s the akuma?” he asked, getting right to the point, ready to leap into action. 

“There’s not one this time,” Ladybug replied, her eyes scanning the streets below. Searching. “Chat, where did you leave Adrien Agreste? I heard you saved him during the akuma fight yesterday. You said you left him on a rooftop, right?”

Chat’s heart leaped to his throat. He swallowed it down. “Y-yeah, I did,” he answered, trying to think, racing for an excuse to cover for his civilian self. The taste of white flour and powdered sugar tickled his tongue. “I _whisked_ him away before he could get cobbled.” 

“Great. That’ll be the starting point for our investigation,” Ladybug definitively decided, but he caught a quirk of a smile at the thematic choice for his puns today. “He’s been filed as a missing person, and we’re going to find him. As far as I can tell from the information I gathered, he was last seen at the beginning of the akuma attack yesterday,” she explained. Her eyes snapped to him, and Chat resisted flinching. “Which makes you the last person to see him, and that roof his last known location.”

Chat’s jaw dropped. “Missing?” That had never happened when he went off as Chat Noir before. But then again, he had never been out of sight of his bodyguard, father’s secretary, or friends for this long. Even with stakeouts and drawn-out battles, he had managed to pop back into public eye long enough to assuage concerns during the chaos of akuma attacks. 

“So, Chat Noir. Where exactly did you leave Adrien? Let’s go, before the trail gets too cold. As heroes, we need to take responsibility for what happens during akuma attacks, in case Hawkmoth took the opportunity to kidnap him.”

Chat’s mind whirled. His mouth felt dry, but he swallowed and said, “Of course. This way,” and leaped off in the direction of their last akuma fight. Wait, no-- closer to the school. ‘Adrien’, as a civilian, didn’t have the speed to get to the fight in time and had the self-preservation to stay away -- most of the time, anyway, when he could duck around a corner to transform. Unlike one opportunistic journalist he could think of. 

Chat figured the specific building didn’t matter, as long as it was in that vague area. They landed on the flat top of an apartment building within view of the school. 

Looking over to Ladybug, that seemed to be the right call to make. She wasn’t suspicious, going right to work scouring the flat rooftop for clues. She stopped at a hatch in the roof, long enough to notice it was unlocked. Chat contemplated throwing out some false clues to give her something to chase after, but couldn’t think of what. 

“Was Adrien acting weird when you picked him up? Did you see anyone else around?”

“Wh-what? What do you mean?” The question caught him off-guard. 

“When you brought him up here. You know, was he acting paranoid, looking over his shoulder… Like someone was following him. Maybe he knew he was being targeted. That kind of thing.”

Chat numbly shook his head. Probably best to let the trail go cold and die, and come up with a story for when Plagg could turn him back to normal. He shivered. 

“I wasn’t really thinking,” he said. “He was a spoiled rich kid who couldn’t get out of the danger zone fast enough. I moved him out of the way, and ran to help you fight the akuma.”

“Any idea how many people were around at the time?” Ladybug reached, poking around for any hint he could offer.

The answer to that, he could give truthfully. “A lot.” The chill was setting in, making it difficult to come up with false leads anyway. “Kids and teachers from the school, and other civilians who were in the area at the time,” he went on.

Ladybug nodded, encouraging him. “Anyone else up here, on the roof?”

Chat shook his head. “Nobody.”

That answered served to frustrate her again as they were put back at square one, but she didn’t press him with more questions. Chat followed her around at her heels, ears tentatively flicking each time she stopped to peer at something. 

“You care an awful lot about this kid, don’t you? What’s going on?”

“Chat, we’re superheroes. We have the ability to help people.”

“...people being this snot-nosed celebrity.”

Ladybug narrowed her eyes at him. “He’s around your age, you know.”

Chat sighed, his teeth chattering. “Why can’t we leave this to the police and actual investigators?” The question came out with a little more bite than he meant to add.

“Chat Noir. We help people.” Ladybug reiterated firmly. “Adrien could have been kidnapped, or worse. The police don’t have this starting point -- or Miraculous abilities. We have the best chance of finding him, especially if Hawkmoth was the one to kidnap him.” She looked to him, and sighed with a soft smile. “Come on. You look like you could do with some warming up. Adrien probably went inside after you left him, anyway.”

Ladybug ushered Chat over to the hatch by the shoulders before dropping down by herself. He followed, not bothering with the ladder set there, landing on all fours in the middle of a deserted hallway. 

The halls were spartan, decorated with scuffs, muted paint, and shiny metal cards marking each door with a number. The top floor of an apartment building in one of Europe’s capital cities should have been luxurious -- but this building, while situated in one of Europe’s most expensive cities, didn’t reach for the stars. Positioned so close to the school, it served more as long-term residential than transitory. 

Ladybug left him to warm up on his own. Chat’s ears pressed back, but he couldn’t deny he wasn’t grateful for the change in scenery. 

Ladybug knocked at doors, greeting each person with the official air of Paris’s superheroine, and followed with questioning about Adrien. 

Meanwhile, the object of her search stood at her side, to give smooth lines insisting that any cooperation helped keep the citizens of Paris safe. He lacked his usual energetic spark, busy wondering how he could escape this chore, and Ladybug shot him questioning glances. 

Ladybug sighed after another door closed, Chat having been a little eager to rush the person along. “Chat Noir, are you…jealous?”

“What?” Chat’s brain stuttered. “No! Wait, yes. Wait, what?”

“Are you jealous?” Ladybug repeated. “Of Adrien Agreste? I know you have a crush on me, and I have a crush on Adrien -- I mean, I-” She floundered, her eyes growing wide and a blush blooming under her mask. 

Chat blinked. She had a crush on him? That was…something. Not something he wanted to try to process right then, however. He wasn’t even sure how she came to that conclusion. 

“What I mean is, that we can’t let personal hang-ups get in the way of saving someone who could be in trouble.”

“If he’s even in trouble,” Chat muttered without thinking about it. 

“Of course he’s in trouble. Adrien has no reason to run off alone and hide from everyone like this.”

“Maybe he was tired of being a celebrity. Maybe he wanted to be someone else for a while, get away from his life at home.” Chat started to brush his hair back, habit from always correcting his styled hair, but stopped with a scowl. 

Ladybug whirled on him. “Is this what your attitude is about?” she demanded. “You think he ran away from home?”

“I didn’t-“

“Adrien Agreste has a great life here in Paris with a comfortable lifestyle, great grades, great looks, and a ton of supportive friends! His father might not be the most friendly man in the world, but he’s still there for his son when he needs him!”

Chat bit his lip to keep himself from arguing and giving away his identity. Ladybug raised a challenging eyebrow, not backing down. They stared at each other for a long moment, then broke.

They continued knocking at doors -- and allowing for the few impromptu selfies -- but there was a tension in the air. 

“I’m just…”

Chat stopped as he was about to knock at the next door. He looked back, and Ladybug shook her head. 

“I’m just worried about him. No one’s ever gone missing during an akuma attack before, and you know he’s in that one class of students that always gets akumatized,” she continued. She met his eyes. “I’m sorry for blowing up on you like that, Chat Noir.”

Chat glanced at the next door, then to Ladybug. “I’m sorry, too,” he sighed. “With the suit messing up and everything else, I’m not in the greatest mood today. It’s nothing to do with you, my Lady. As a matter of fact, seeing you puts a smile on my face. Maybe we--”

His ring beeped. 

The two heroes stared at his hand; he hadn’t used Cataclysm. A flash enveloped Chat, and then there was just one hero in that hallway. But no sign of Adrien. 

Allard caught Plagg as the kwami fell, and then picked up his baton where it had fallen off his back. “…maybe we should take some time to cool off,” he finished his sentence sheepishly. 

Ladybug smiled at him. “Good plan. Any maybe we shouldn’t advertise this face around at Ladybug’s side,” she added. “Go take the elevator down and head to your friend’s place. I want to ask around a bit more before giving it a rest.” 

Allard headed to the elevator, tucking Plagg into his pocket. 

Belatedly, he realized it would take him so long to get back to the bakery by foot, and then the Dupain-Chengs must be looking for him… He felt guilty to do that to them. He wasn’t used to having people actually concerned about his whereabouts, more used to people who expected him to try to escape. 

Then he looked at the baton in his other hand, and grinned. Maybe having these powers stick around wasn’t so bad. 

He took to the rooftops to leap over with his baton, racing, jumping, and flipping in the direction of the bakery. On foot, he might have gotten lost, but he knew the layout of Paris so much better from above. 

He made it back to the balcony of the bakery in record time, and made sure Plagg was safely in his pocket before going inside. 

Allard only remembered he had been sent to get Marinette when Sabine asked him about it later. Apparently, she had assumed the both of them had taken a nap upstairs. She hadn’t wanted to disturb them.


End file.
